


My Emperor

by Puniyo



Series: Concubine [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Androgyny, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magical Realism, Mentions of Violence, Psychological Manipulation, Sexual Content, Voyeurism, alternative universe, dirty talking, emperors and concubines, pain and pearls, play on gender roles, play on kinks, plot within plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: ‘I am no one’s mistress.’‘So you’re not my concubine anymore?’Yuzuru chuckles as he raises the blade to Javier's throat. 'I will never be loyal to you but you may have my honesty.'Chapter 2 updated [22-11-2018]





	1. The Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all, I'm giving my alternative universes another try since these mean freedom and freedom is the only thing I don't have now. I've always wanted to write something that touched androgyny and that played with gender roles. I love the idea of Yuzuru being able to embody both masculine and feminine in him and I guess this is one of the major themes here. 
> 
> Note 1: Bear in mind that I'm no expert in history and this is sort of a collection of typical attitudes during imperial times. It is partially based on amazing Chinese period dramas and Wuxia movies so please be gentle with my atrocities. 
> 
> Note 2: Again, not trying to advocate whatever stereotypes, I'm a feminist myself, ideas for the sake of the plot itself.
> 
> Note 3: This is a work of FICTION. It should be self-explanatory.

_‘Don’t cut your hair Yuzuru.'_

_‘I’m not a woman,’_

_‘It’s beautiful.’_

_The dark long strands swirl in the scented breeze of autumn like whips of wildfire descending on the hunter’s forest. They also settle, compliant and meekly over his shoulders and ears in a long silky veil. He tries to tie them in a single braid but the other pair of hands release his hair from the confining strap._

_‘No. Let it be free.’ He kisses every parted lock. ‘You are beautiful. Like a flower of the night.’_

 

‘You have such beautiful hair. The prettiest of them all in the court.’

The ivory comb massages the scalp, its teeth disentangling the morning hair from roots to the tips. Yuzuru tries to remain still on his bed, proper posture and legs crossed, but he swings from left to right in different angles, testing the patience of his servant. He stands up and sits in front of the mirror, starring at his own reflection.

‘It’s just hair.’ He hated it, the length, the greasy after touch on his fingertips in a humid day, the willful volume that rivaled his own disobedience for rule and control.

‘I think it’s very elegant.’

Yuzuru opens his mouth slightly in protest but he keeps quiet as the tangy and crimson powder descend to his lips and smears them in red, in hues of fresh blood. He notices how his servant is slightly flushed with their proximity, which isn’t even that close, and when he darts his tongue to meet with the pinky brushing his lower lip, the other boy’s hand retracts immediately.

‘For someone who came from the sky, you don’t seem to be well acquainted with flying.’ He smirks, relishing in the confusion and the innocence poured all over his servant’s face.

‘Why me, Yuzuru?’ The younger boy sees that Yuzuru takes no offense in having his name called. ‘You could have any maid from the palace.’

‘Are you not happy being with me? Am I not a good consort? Where did I do wrong, Boyang?’

The red powder vial hits the tiled floor just as fast as the servant’s knees. Boyang’s joined hands are extended towards Yuzuru and he holds his head down. ‘I’m sorry for my rudeness. It won’t happen again.’

‘Stand up.’ Yuzuru picks up the crystal flask and squeezes the younger man’s shoulder reassuringly. ‘No maid in this palace can be trusted. Only you. Besides,’ he lifts Boyang’s chin and his voice softens, ‘I really like you.’ He sits in front of the mirror again, the sight of the towering darkness angering him. ‘Come help me do my hair.’

The ivory comb divides and catches his hair in its prison bars. It is tedious as Boyang gathers pins and roll and fold locks into secure knots and a bun on top of his head. It is rather quick and only a strand drapes over the back of Yuzuru’s neck, hiding the first few ridges of his spine under the night tunic.

‘Why do you pretend to be a woman, Yuzuru?’ He inserts a jade clasp, the golden tassels dangling on the sides on the bun.

‘This is not a child’s game.’ He chooses a single quartz prism earring, only a pair. ‘You are a man when you are fighting another man.’ The hook is caught on the healing wound on his earlobe but Yuzuru still forces it in, drawing a drop of blood. ‘You need to be a woman when your enemy is a woman.’

The young man applies a dollop of peppermint ointment in the cut but Yuzuru dismisses it. It had a pleasant vermillion, bruised color.

‘Is it because of the vulture?’

‘The _empress_ ,’ he corrects his servant although he too thinks that is the best fitting description, tapping his fingers in the surface of the mirror and trying not to lose his stoic gaze, ‘if she hears you this time, she will cut your tongue and feed it to you as breakfast.’ He smells the different distilled essences that the highest wife had given him that morning but they are all repugnant. The odor of poison is not even disguised. ‘Walls have ears and doors mouths.’

‘I am forever indebted to you, my ladyship, for saving my life.’ The servant rests his head on Yuzuru’s knee, placing a chaste kiss on each one before descending to do the same on his feet. ‘I swear my loyalty to you and only you.’

Yuzuru is uncomfortable with the excessive courtesy and he kicks Boyang lightly until the young man stumbles back. He apologizes for his _unladylike_ behavior. ‘I am no one outside this palace. ‘Devote your honor to the emperor.’ He thinks of Javier as he adjusts the talons on his ring and pinky fingers, how those gold guards would scratch his thighs and his manhood if he allowed. How Javier would take these from him and insert them into him as punishment. Yuzuru shudders at the thought of it. ‘He needs you more than I do.’

‘His majesty has visited you more times than any of the other ladies of the palace.’ The younger man is matching the silk sashes with the different cotton tunics.

‘Has he?’ Yuzuru chooses a plain, lustrous black strap and wraps it around his neck, tight and cramped, sealing his air flow, until the fear of asphyxiating overcomes the temptation to play with the thin line of unconsciousness and he releases the knot. ‘But I really like you Boyang and I will protect you from any harm.’

_‘Am I beautiful?’_

_‘Yes, a beautiful boy.’_

_‘Really?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘More than the sun?’_

_‘More than the moon.’_

_‘Even in the dark.’_

_‘Especially in the dark, my flower of the night.’_

‘Now,’ Boyang snatches the sash from Yuzuru, slightly frightened by the impulsiveness of his master, ‘these words should be for the emperor only.’

‘Entertain me _Tian_.’ He whines and pouts. ‘Don’t cut my wings too.’

‘The emperor doesn’t want your wings.’

‘He already has them.’

‘He would like to hear you sing then.’

‘I will never sing those words to him.’

Yuzuru peeks from the narrow gap of the embroidered curtains covering the full window pane, intricately fixed into a carved, wooden frame. He can’t see much except for a pair of butterflies that twirl and flutter in their own world, oblivious to who might catch them. He does the same in the middle of the room, until his head is dizzy and he almost tumbles.

What had he sworn to Javier? Honesty and himself, all of him, every single cell in his body and every single breath that his lungs conceived until he returned to ashes. But loyalty? What is once given away cannot be recovered.

Javier must know this too, Yuzuru thinks, that feathers can be plucked from branches and cages unlocked even without keys. That he had given his wings willingly and that the emperor had left the gate opened and latches removed. That he would soar one day and that _he_ too would have to shoot the fleeting ghost.

‘What will you wear today? The weather looks fine and the emperor might visit you later as he promised.’ Boyang goes through the different garments, varied thickness and patterns. He waits for an answer but Yuzuru simply sits on his bed without sparing a single glance to the tunics.

‘Which one do you want me to wear?’ Dangling bare feet and hands on each side of his hips, the smirk is back to Yuzuru’s face.

‘That should be the emperor’s choice.’

‘He would prefer to see me without anything.’ He lets the night gown slide down his slender shoulders until the fabric piles on his waist where it was secured a single ribbon. ‘Humor me. Just this time.’

‘My ladyship–‘

‘Or I won’t move an inch. I won’t go out. Lock the door. I refuse to see the emperor.’

‘But–‘ Yuzuru lies down, turning his back to his servant. ‘Fine. The turquoise one with the cranes. But promise me that you will behave.’

‘That, my dear Tian,’ he stretches his arms so the cotton fiber hugs his skin and he ties the loose strips that hid his Adam’s apple, ‘is a promise that only the emperor can have.’

The sleeves are long and heavy against his taut elbows and the robe almost swept the floor. It braced his ankles, almost tickling the Achille’s tendon, but he could move freely and just as delicately.

Boyang fixes a few strands that had eluded the jade pin, pulling the hair with the brusque haul that he knew Yuzuru hated. ‘The emperor will be furious if I let his favorite consort be less radiant than the sun.’

Yuzuru chuckles – _Javier’s favorite concubine_. ‘No, he won’t.’ He grabs the small box with white powder. ‘But _this_ will make him even angrier.’ He blows the contents to the younger man’s face, who is caught by surprise in the dusty cloud and coughs at the particles of talc, crouching so he won’t lose balance.

Yuzuru runs away from his palace, the inner court garden and the main gates, bare feet, slippers forgotten and neglected. The pebbles don’t hurt his soles and he only sprints faster, closing his eyes as he welcomed the breeze on his cheeks and tongue – the taste of rebellion.

He knew Javier liked him that way.

 

 

The astringent clashing of blunt blades warns Yuzuru that he is not alone. Soldiers out of breath were training how to properly grip a sword, not just long ones but different kinds of melee weapons, short and elongated, curved or straight. Amateurs, he thinks to himself, as he stealthy navigates through the shadows of the trees and under the orange-tiled eaves. There is a guard at the armory (it was stupid of his to think the imperial grounds were left to the fortune of nature) and he slows down his own walking pace as he recovered his breath. Yuzuru runs his hand through the bodies of the bows, the spears, the rapiers. He can’t find his silver dagger.

‘You can’t be here.’ The guard bows but his disdainful glare makes the young man’s stomach convulse. ‘No mistress is allowed to enter a man’s arena.’

The polished staff fits comfortably in his palm, the body smooth and thick enough to be held in his grip. The blade is light and Yuzuru swings the glaive in discreet, reticent movements, almost drawing characters with the pointy edge on the cement floor, ignoring the attendant.

‘I am no one’s mistress.’

‘So you’re not my concubine anymore?’

_I will never be loyal to you but you may have my honesty._

‘Only,’ Yuzuru turns around in a feathery pirouette, the balls of his feet anchoring his spin in a display of grace, ‘only if you have a head to keep.’ He raises the pole to Javier’s throat, which is readily intercepted by the equally swift sheath from his personal bodyguard.

‘You dare to raise a weapon to the emperor?’ Patrick pushes both blades down before Yuzuru releases it willingly. The metallic head of the glaive hitting the ground echoes through the armory.

‘My _sincerest_ apologies, my lord.’ He kneels, his mouth curved into a coy sneer, but his eyes never leave Javier’s. He sees fire in them, flames that encircle the two almond marbles, flames that he wanted to be burned with if it let him savor the pleasure in being consumed by that blaze.

‘Is my lady so bored she needs to escape her own palace?’ Javier lifts Yuzuru up by the chin, tangling his fingers on the loose strands of his dark hair.

The grip almost hurts but it sends a shiver down his spine. ‘She would like to learn the ways of war.’ He leans somewhat closer to the emperor and it’s again the same subtle motion of lips that only the two of them can hear. ‘And feel the strength of your sword on me.’ It excites him that Javier swallows deep and dry, the wildfire in his irises lighting up even more.

‘There might be too much to lose in this challenge, my lady.’ Javier sucks the patch of skin on the inside of Yuzuru’s wrist, enough to feel the quickening pulse.

‘What if the mistress wins?’

‘Will you?’

The emperor recollects the glaive and offers it to Yuzuru, the blade still pointed at himself.

‘My lord,’ Patrick steps in, taking hold of the spear, ‘I am the commander of the army of the East. Allow me to sharpen my sword.’

‘What says my lady?’

Even not looking at Patrick, Yuzuru knows the violating coercion of his smirk. He bows, accepting the duel. His hands shake as he retrieves his weapon and the tiny pocket of time that Javier lingers without surrendering the blade tells him that he too felt that trembling.

The blinding sun witnesses the unfolding of a blended choreography of agility from a panther and the imposing, but refined, prowess of a lion. Yuzuru barely dodges the thrusting advances from Patrick, the coarse, grainy blocks on the ground scratching the soles of his bare feet and the excessive layers of his robe stifling his natural nimbleness. It’s an uneven spar, one that he knew it was determined to be his defeat, but the young man doesn’t want to lose. Not to Patrick.

The heat is scorching and a trail of sweat runs down his temple. His movements might have become sluggish and the fatigue of his muscles reduced his stamina but he can read which direction his opponent’s blade will swing and he steps closer, his own glaive slashing Patrick’s face. It’s a shallow cut, just a thin streak of blood oozing from the laceration, and yet the commander grins as he grabs the body of his spear.

‘You haven’t changed at all.’

‘What?’

This moment of naïve distraction grants Patrick the access to the gate of his defenses. He is close, too close, and Yuzuru shuts his eyes as the pommel of the sword hits his wrist. He drops the weapon in pain, excruciating needles prickling down his arm, as the jade pin slips and shatters into pieces, his hair falling majestically over his shoulders.

‘Stop this nonsense immediately!’

The high-pitched yell echoes in the fortified quarters of the armory as all the soldiers bow promptly at the sight of the new arrival. Yuzuru notices that Javier’s eyes are not on her and they never leave his, as he too descends to his knees, his right fingers numb as he cannot bend them into a proper courteous greeting.

‘My lord, what is Yuzuru doing in such place?’ The empress takes a seat next to Javier, her couple of maids flapping incessantly a large fan of peacock feathers.

She is young, still older than him, Yuzuru deduces from her extravagant choice of the azure phoenix on her chest. There is a distance between their bodies beyond the simple physicality of their silhouettes. She doesn’t touch Javier and her annoyance is completely ignored by the emperor.

‘Catching a mosquito for her cat to play with.’ He gestures Patrick to resume the soldier’s training and for the younger man to come nearer. The swelling of the wrist is evident even when Yuzuru tries to hide his arm, tucked in the long sleeves of his tunic.

‘This kind of behavior is shameful and a disgrace to all the concubines.’ The empress mocks the dirt on Yuzuru’s feet, the torn patches on the silk garment (that was a present from her), and the loose, dark strands that withered the midday sun with its slovenliness. ‘How many times do you need to be punished, Yuzuru, until you learn manners?’

He is silent, only nodding at her words. The scorching heat strips him of the will to reply and he thinks he might faint.

‘Allow me, my lord–‘

‘No.’ It is the smirk that arouses him like a malady he couldn’t depart from. ‘I will see to the _punishment_ later myself.’

Yuzuru fears how quick the flames in Javier’s eyes will devour him, and yet, he wants to be drowned in that promise.

 

 

The night is a refuge for lost souls. Souls like Yuzuru’s, meandering on paths not signposted, a vagabond following the peregrination of stars that leads nowhere. He sits on the terracotta rooftiles, having escaped another of Boyang’s concerned lectures about feeding the vulture with too much putrid meat (to which Yuzuru said he had no intentions to lie on her nest), and he listens to the cadence of falling twigs, leaves and hushed ripples on the surface of the lotus pond.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair, rivalling the shadows of the sky, parting the strands and interweaving them into a single braid. He almost completes it when another pair of hands catch his and the sheer volume unfastens down his shoulders again.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Patrick nudges on the nape of his neck and inhales deeply. ‘I’ve missed this.’

‘It’s just hair.’ A déjà-vu, or one of the many Yuzuru can’t forget. A few stars seem to have dissolved in the imminent cloud.

‘You’re beautiful.’ It is a stranger’s hand on him, one that he doesn’t recognize anymore, but he grants him access to the sensitive patch of skin behind his ears. He shudders at the contact of the foreign lips. ‘I’m so relieved you didn’t cut it. You still think of me.’

‘It wasn’t because of you.’

‘Is this why you entered the court?’

‘I’m here for the same reasons as you are.’

Patrick kisses the exposed collarbone, the tiny mole in the moonlight but Yuzuru leans away, detaching himself from the caress, bringing the two hems of his robe together.

‘I am the emperor’s consort!’ His voice is sharper than he expected, a momentary loss of control and he regrets the lack of self-discipline. He lets the commander’s hand pull him by the chin, _just as Javier had done earlier_ , and the grip on his jaws is imperceptibly constricting.

‘One of the _many_ of his harem.’

‘As many as I need to be. Just like you.’

‘It this what the East wants?’ He anchors his claps, tightening it. ‘For you to have your sleeping quarters at the mercy of his highness?’

‘You are hurting me.’ Patrick retrieves his hand but the young man is still a prisoner of the shared shackles of a bond only known to the two of them. ‘They want time.’

‘Time? For what?’

‘Revenge.’ It’s Yuzuru who extends his hand and brushes the knuckles of the curled fist of the commander. It is not affection nor fondness, but respect and also a mute warning to keep his distance. ‘They need time. It’s not negotiable.’

‘I’m tired of waiting.’ The tresses are children of the night and Patrick is obsessed with how the locks drape over Yuzuru’s arm, his own arm, and their juxtaposed fingers. ‘You are supposed to be mine already.’

‘I belong to no one.’

‘Not even the emperor?’

Yuzuru is quiet, not daring to voice an answer he knows it will be a lie – to Patrick and especially to himself. He squirms at the sudden noise on the next roof, a pair of cats in a scratching match, and his bare feet slip on a smoother tile. Patrick reaches for his waist on time but his wrist is caught on the embrace and the younger man hisses at the abrupt pain.

‘Is it broken?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. And your face?’

The commander brings his cheek where the dry cut is and rubs it on the bruised and tender articulation, joining each of their wounds. It’s uncomfortable and there is no warmth in their proximity. It’s late, all the stars are hidden, and he wants to leave. _Now_.

_‘You are free Yuzuru.’_

_‘Where can I go?’_

_‘Anywhere. Anywhere your wings take you.’_

_‘Over the seas?’_

_‘Even the oceans and across the sky. But give me only one thing.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘Only this.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘Your loyalty.’_

‘Let me go.’

‘Did you promise to wait for him?’

‘I am _his_ concubine.’

‘A merchant of deception.’

They descend in silence, cautious and vigilant, to be seized at a presumed rendezvous not an option. Even the felines had vanished to their own corner in the night, only a few fireflies swooping the long corridors between palaces in trails of green and pink. Nature had its own romantic irony, Yuzuru thinks, as he catches one but releases it immediately so it wouldn’t die on his palm.

‘Has the emperor loved you? Has he–’

‘What has happened between _Javier_ and I,’ Yuzuru dares to call the emperor by his name, each syllable heavy on his tongue, ‘is only for me. It is mine.’

Patrick laughs in anguished rifts, in wails of what once was his but no more. The volume of his voice increases, augmented by the trepidation in Yuzuru’s face. The theater continues even if the actors are bleeding. He grabs the younger man by the arm and drags him forcibly, as one stretches the strings of a marionette until these break.

‘What are you doing?’ Yuzuru almost trips as his feet tries to accommodate to the fast pace of their steps.

‘Time. Isn’t that what they wanted? I’m giving them time.’

They arrive at the doorsteps of inner quarters of the empress, two guards meticulously armed and they acknowledge Patrick’s presence with no surprise.

‘There is nothing only yours, Yuzuru.’ The words are whispered to his ears. ‘You’re not the only one with secrets.’

The moon is out again in its full grace. It peeks from the sky to witness his punishment. Yuzuru closes his eyes, darkness enveloping him as he smirks in the same audacity and provocation of _time_.

‘Call his highness, the emperor,’ the commander of the East kisses the black strands of his hair one last time, ‘tell him his favorite concubine tried to flee the palace grounds.’


	2. My Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Don’t you want me?’ 
> 
> He wants. He wants the proximity of their bodies, the gnawing tension on his gut and the fingers in him again. He wants Javier, the lemon and musk of his sweat and to be thrown into the cage of his arms. He pulls the emperor down, clashing their lips in painful fury. He wants the control but also be released from it, their tongues in a messy, wet dance. He is falling again, this time on the precipice of his own lust but there is a hand that catches him before he hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it comes the second part of this installment, slightly longer than I had expected. I have to raise the ratings on this chapter since that was the best punishment I could come up with, which is not that original. I should probably go on a hiatus to sort out my head, or simply just ignore me because I'm having one of those not so good days. 
> 
> I don't intend to make this series that long but I think there are enough plot bunnies here to lead somewhere.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION. I'm not going to repeat myself since this is chapter 2 already.

_Don’t let me fall. Please. I don’t want to die._

_But you say that I won’t, that there are wings on my back and that I must learn how to fly._

_The earth is dry and my hand is slipping. It’s an abyss, can’t you see? The waves are driving the rocks apart and the precipice is breaking._

_You can see it, you tell, the water and the foam, the dark hole underneath and the beauty in nothing._

_I can’t hold any longer, I don’t have any strength left. Am I just another one for you?_

_You catch my hand and I know my shoulder is out of place. You say it’s alright._

_It’s not. It hurts. I’m crying. It hurts so much. I will fall._

_I won’t, you repeat again. You ask me if I trust you._

_I do. It hurts. Should I trust you? Are you going to let me fall?_

_Yes. Yes, you answer in short words and long lies. Yes, you tell me I will fall. That I must fall._

_I beg you to not let me go._

_You say you are sorry._

_I know you are not._

_You ask me if I will take my loyalty back._

_I have given it to you. It’s forever yours._

_You will cherish it, you whisper to me. You smile at me like the first time._

_I still remember it. Was it true or was I stupid? I don’t know._

_‘Goodbye.’_

_Farewell. My hand is cold without yours. I’m falling._

 

 

Yuzuru opens his eyes, his body just a mortal vessel for brief seconds, nothing more than an empty shell. He feels his soul being hooked again inside his carcass and all his senses are back, someone’s grip on his shoulder, the smell of dampness in the air waiting for the rain, the taste of his own saliva coating the sides of his throat. It is dark but not completely, stars and oil lamps spread apart, not the infinite of the abyss, and there are no waves, no foam, no water, except for a single trail of sweat that runs down his back.

He falls, not down the precipice, but onto his knees on the steps of the imperial quarters as Patrick shoves him to the ground, just as he does too, when both majesties appear. It should be late in evening, Yuzuru had lost track of time, but neither the emperor nor his queen was sleeping, he could tell. The night is a playground for an adult and none of them were children. Naughty children perhaps.

‘Don’t they say that moths are attracted by light?’ The empress circles him, her wooden slippers accentuating each of her vagarous steps. ‘What has attracted you out, Yuzuru?’

The question is met with no reply as he simply bows further down in her proximity. What can caged birds wish for if they don’t know how far they can fly?

‘Aren’t we all moths?’

‘I found her, my ladyship, wandering alone in the East Gates.’ There is nothing in Patrick’s composure that hints at the man he truly is. Yuzuru almost doesn’t recognize him – Patrick, the commander of the army of the East; Patrick, the emperor’s right sword and left bow; Patrick, the one who said he was beautiful; Patrick, just Patrick, the same one with him just now.

‘Were you seducing the wind?’

Javier’s voice demands his attention but not an answer. ‘Yes.’ Even just under the dim moonlight, he knows how his almond eyes are locked on him and only him. Maybe he was really a moth but it wasn’t to brilliance that he was enchanted. ‘Lullabies and love songs, I gave them all to the wind.’

‘Why serenade the wind if you know it won’t only blow to you?’

‘Just for tonight, it would devote all its breath to me.’ And a light breeze sweeps a few of his dark locks and the dust at his knees, like a gentle tap on the tip of his nose and a kiss on his eyelids. Yuzuru joins his hands and raises them to his lips as one scoops water from a clear pond and he drinks of the air, filling his lungs with an ecstatic jolt. He offers the same euphoria, hands extended to Javier.

‘This isn’t a circus for your tricks and frolics, Yuzuru.’ The empress steps into his line of sight, hindering his view of the emperor. ‘Were you spying for the dissidents of the East?’

He lets his hands fall to his lap, curling into fists. ‘Yes. On the art of breastfeeding and lovemaking. For we are animals, we are moths, we must procreate. I invite them in, all of me. Didn’t you teach me once, _my sister_ , to keep enemies closer than anyone?’

‘Don’t call me that, wild child. Our blood does not mingle.’

‘And yet it runs in my veins and in yours,’ Yuzuru pinches the empress’ pinky talon on the palm of his hand. It only nudges on the intersection of the different lines there but he impales it until it draws a pool of red, ‘we all bleed the same.’

The commander is the first one to react, holding Yuzuru’s injured hand up high as the blood trickles down his wrist, while the empress steps back, crimson on gold, clutching on Javier’s arm, her face one of a victim and not the executioner. Patrick immediately materializes a handkerchief, poorly woven silk and a faded embroidery that barely resembled anything, and he ties it on the younger man’s hand. It too soaks on red but Yuzuru recognizes his own crude stitches. He chuckles as Patrick completes the knot and his fingertips linger a second longer on his thumb.

‘Is it danger that you want to play with, Yuzuru?’ She removes the stained talon and throws it at his knee. ‘Danger in fleeing, danger in being caught. Were you eloping with the general, who hasn’t stop looking at you since we arrived?’

‘My ladyship,’ Patrick pulls his sword, a thin rapier, blade to himself and the silver handle to Javier, ‘never would I commit such offense. We–’

Yuzuru raises his hand, demanding for silence as one of the concubines of the court. ‘Yes.’ He sweeps his hair to the side, exposing the patch of skin that the commander had kissed him. ‘Yes. Is that what you wish to hear? We were eloping under the moon. You can search me, right now and here, outside and _inside_. See whether the remnants of my passion are still not gone.’

It is not her enraged eyes that strips him of his pride, but Javier’s smirk that promises that exact moment to take on that offer and taste his fervor. He bites his own lower lip, focusing all his strength on his teeth so his knees wouldn’t give in to the rising excitement on his lower body.

‘A moth will never be a butterfly.’ The empress takes another of the talons off, the one on her ring finger, and bends it until it’s deformed, out of shape, but it doesn’t crackle. ‘I forgive you, Yuzuru, you are just a wild child.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’ He bows in respect.

‘It’s the duty of your servant to see to your wishes. For you to run away, he has failed in managing your chambers.’

Yuzuru lifts his face immediately, shaking his head in negation. She delights in the distress on his pupils, the simmering despair and the pain. Even Javier is amused at the sudden change of tides, waves crashing at the shore and breaking his defenses, and the frailty on his shoulders.

The empress gestures for one of the guards who promptly arrives at her feet. ‘Bring that boy here.’

‘No!’ It is a caustic cry, a plea that corrodes his organs, one by one. ‘Please don’t. _Please_. He is innocent.’ He is visibly shivering, his head still swaying to the sides. He was a moth, circling the light but burnt by it. ‘Not him. Punish me if you want.’

‘No punishment will befall on you if you tell the truth.’

‘My truth? Your truth? Which _truth_?’

‘Were you trying to flee the palace?’ The empress accentuates every single word, almost spitting them out.

‘No.’ There is a moment of silence that is longer than an eternity as Yuzuru closes his eyes. He can still feel Patrick’s touch on the palm of his hand, the astringent voice of the empress on his eardrums, the fire, always a wildfire, of Javier’s gaze on him, and loyalty. The flight of his own loyalty. He opens his eyes again and it’s the emperor that he sees first. ‘They call me the flower of the night, the sacrifice for the prosperity of this empire. I worship the moon for fortune of this reign and long life for my lord, the emperor. I pray to dusk and twilight, when time is broken and infinite, to grant a life,’ Yuzuru turns to her, the intensity of his glare raw and frightening, ‘to your barren womb.’

_The fan falls again from my grasp and I throw it away, the cotton, the bamboo, the tassels, my annoyance, my contempt, all at your feet. I see you pick it up and I close my eyes. I try not to cry but you have never hit me with such force._

_You caress my swollen cheeks with the mark of the fan and you ask me if I know why you did it._

_I nod but I won’t acknowledge it. I am tired. I trip on the hem of the dress and I want to cut my hair._

_‘You’re beautiful.’_

_But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. What more can there be? What else can I give you?_

_There is the ugly, you tell me, to be desired and to be repugnant. You fix my grip on the fan and my posture as I stretch. I don’t walk, you drag me. I want control, you say I never had any._

_‘Fly higher.’_

_I jump, one feet on the sky and the other on the earth._

_You chant ‘more’ like a hymn to me. Don’t be afraid to be everything, you whisper to my ears, as you command all my movements like a puppet._

_I am nothing but everything._

_You praise me._

_I am the day and the night, the light and the darkness, the sprouting seed and the withering flower._

_A man, you touch me between my legs, but also a woman._

_What if I can’t? What if I am just me, Yuzuru?_

_It’s my duty, you remind me, like all the other times. It’s my loyalty._

The bursting sound of the slap on Yuzuru’s face echoes through the granite walls of the inner quarters. It doesn’t hurt but his face sears from the impetuous contact of the empress’ gelid palm. He flinches not from her blow but from the fall down the precipice, down, down, down… until when?

‘Your anger won’t go away even if you hit me.’ His jaw is stiff. ‘Much less your sorrow.’

‘You have no right to speak!’ She raises her hand again, aiming on the same trajectory.

‘The emperor doesn’t wish to have damaged goods on his bed later.’ The empress hesitates but lowers her arm. ‘If only I could ease your mourning. Expel me from the palace. Banish me to the desert. I am your servant.’

‘No. You will remain here as a lady of the court.’ She strokes Yuzuru’s cheek, still red from her momentarily lapse of control. ‘Keep them closer you say. I will keep here.’ She points to her chest.

Her pupils are another precipice, Yuzuru notices. Still young, insecurity dyed in them, but daunting in the aching shackles of her own and jealousy. Hers and his own reflected on her eyes. She turns her back to him and it’s the emperor that she seeks.

‘Her disrespect will not be tolerated. I want her whipped.’

Javier sighs at his two phoenixes and concedes her wish. ‘The night is no gamble for a lady of this palace.’ It is not Javier, the man, the peasant, the trader, the collector of petty flowers, the one that had Yuzuru’s honesty, who is talking. It is Javier, the chosen one for the empire and the voice of all gods and all nature. It is a cold voice and a languid posture, inhuman hand on hand and pikes as feet.

Yuzuru doesn’t recognize the man in front of him, except for his almond eyes. They almost seem warm.

It is Patrick that distributes each jab on his back, the sheath of his sword slashing where he knew it would not break any of vertebrae. Yuzuru does not utter a single cry of help. He swallows them instead, teeth biting into his lower lip so his silence is not broken. With his eyes closed, it is the ocean that he thinks of. Of waves that crash against the shore as another blow lands on his shoulders, of foam, salty and ephemeral, disappearing as the wind arrives to play with them.

There is no one left when the world of his vision disappears except for him and the commander of the East. Yuzuru braces his chest, his nails sinking on the tendons of his upper arms as his body shudders from the pain. He smiles at the sight of himself, proud and beaten, standing tall and falling into the endless valley. A single tear runs down his face. It also tastes salty.

_Am I everything already?_

‘How does it feel to fall?’ Patrick fixes Yuzuru’s disheveled hair, the strands long enough to cover his bruised neck and back. It is just the hair that his fingers reach for. Only the hair.

‘Don’t touch me.’

‘I won’t. You are a concubine of the palace. But even birds find branches to perch on.’

‘This bird has no desire to fly.’

‘Because of him?’ Patrick doesn’t stay for the answer. He disappears in the shadows of the night, his grip too tight on the pommel of his own sword.

 

 

It is almost annoying the fixation Boyang has with kneeling and apologizing, his forehead already to the ground no matter how many times Yuzuru tells him – no – orders him to just be the usual self. It is endearing the way his voice almost breaks when he sees the bruised, bloodstained back and the swiftness with which he runs to retrieve the softest towel he could find and soak it in a brew of wild mint and lemongrass.

‘Is this one of your miracle potions?’ Yuzuru tears his tunic away, the dirtied and defeated garment discarded at the doorstep, and he lies completely naked on his bed. He bites on his pillow to muffle a groan as the lukewarm fabric covers his wounds. It stings, the broth seeping into his cuts and crawling under his skin, but it soon soothes his aching muscles and settles in tiptoes on his bones. ‘It smells good.’

‘Why did this happen?’ His servant changes the water a few times, from deep vermilion until it is pristine clear. He sighs of relief when he sees the cuts are shallow and no major damage remained. It still disturbed him the sight of swollen streaks, of deepening shades of fuchsia and purple tainting the white complexion of his master’s back. ‘I should have been the one beaten.’

‘Nonsense.’ He tries to support himself on his elbows but Boyang presses him down to the pallet of feathers, keeping him still. ‘I was the one who went out. I deserved this.’

‘Was it worth it? What are you chasing?’

Yuzuru turns his head away, not a single word escaping his lips. He stares at the tapestry on the wall as his protégé ties his hair aside to keep it from touching the floor.

‘I’m just worried about you.’

‘Don’t be. Grow up Tian.’ The hand on his hair is heavy, the weight of innocence reminding him that they were all pawns in an adults’ game, and he regrets immediately the cruelty spilled from his tongue. ‘I’m sorry.’

Boyang blushes when Yuzuru sits and the blue sheet slides off from his lower body, exposing his legs, the same white thighs and his manhood. It was beautiful. He always thought Yuzuru to be a beauty beyond any other in the palace. He diverts his gaze and the other man suppresses a laugh. A very subtle one.

‘ _Tian_ ,’ he calls him again until the younger boy nods, eyes still down, ‘you’re like a brother to me. I won’t let anyone harm you.’

‘You are the one who should be protected.’

‘Maybe.’ Yuzuru leans forward and places his lips on Boyang’s. It’s a chaste kiss, modestly prudish, just the contact of their mouths. It’s neither romantic nor platonic, but a promise sealed in silence.

‘You are teasing me again, Yuzuru.’

Yuzuru lies flat on his stomach again, this time really giggling into the pillow. ‘That is what I like to do best.’

‘You should only do this with the emperor.’ Boyang’s hands are shaking and he almost knocks over the bowl of mint leaves.

‘I do much _more_ than this, my dear Tian.’

‘I will… I will change the water.’ He hits the frame of the bed with his knee.

‘Don’t fall into the well.’

‘Please be nice. And obedient.’

‘That too is only for the emperor.’

Yuzuru closes his eyes for a moment, not drifting to the realm of dreams but letting the fragrances, the perfumed air of the night, the cradle of sandalwood, all of these envelop him, becoming one with the surroundings. He sighs, taking a deep breath, so profoundly rooted in his lungs that he is afraid part of his life will be expelled as he exhales. He keeps stretched in bed even when foreign steps invade the room. These are not Boyang’s – there is a resonance to them, the way the foot lands with precision and confidence from the heel to the toes.

He pretends to be asleep but a smirk takes shape in his mouth as he feels Javier’s pair of hands on his butt cheeks.

‘I wasn’t whipped there.’

‘Would you like some?’

The emperor pinches the softest skin he has ever touched and follows with a slap, ivory creaminess to velvet red. A sharp hiss escapes Yuzuru’s lips as another slap lands on him.

‘You have to stop being so enticing, my Yuzuru.’ He dips his fingers in the vanilla ointment, conveniently laid on the edge of the bed, and Javier teases the pucker, his finger tracing the little wrinkles between the two halves of inviting fleshiness (he bites them just to verify how sweet they are). The younger man shifts his hips but Javier holds him still, not granting him more contact.

‘Do you like to defy me, Yuzuru?’

‘No, my lord.’ He shakes his head, a coy voice and an even more coquettish laughter muffled by the pillow, accentuating his reverence for the manners of the palace. He raises his hips slightly and Javier presses the thumb into his entrance, not entirely in, but enough for him to taste the heat and the tightness.

‘Is this why you keep a full man as your chamber servant?’

‘Is this jealousy, my lord?’ Yuzuru impales himself further on the finger. ‘Or are you afraid your consort will be unfaithful with another man between her legs?’

‘Will you?’

‘Who says I haven’t already?’

Javier retrieves his hand, the younger man moaning at the sudden loss of the friction inside of him. The emperor plays with him, tiptoe caresses on the inner thigh, a lighter brush still on the bruised cheeks and a tentative lick on the eager wetness. He too finds the confining erection torturously pleasant and he rubs his crotch on Yuzuru’s, letting him how much he wants this as well. The sight of his sleek, sensitive skin is gorgeous but the younger man’s restrained whimpers is the most beautiful sound the night ever gave him.

‘They say I’m your favorite consort.’

‘You are.’ Javier leans over Yuzuru, trapping him between his arms and knees. It’s a gazelle underneath him, fragile and hurt, he traces chaste kisses on the bruised back like a child chasing a labyrinth. And yet, his consort, his _favorite_ consort, is strong, a raging storm in a slender silhouette and an ocean contained on his ribcage. ‘My only concubine.’ He lifts the swollen and tender wrist and he bites it, almost devouring the cartilage, the veins, the bones. ‘Stop looking for trouble and be a nice consort.’ He pulls the single quartz earring on Yuzuru and presses the cold crystal behind his ear. ‘Only one, like a lady being courted? You really like defying me.’

‘It’s not defiance.’ He can’t see Javier but the weight of his emperor’s glare on him is both mortifying and incredibly arousing. ‘I’m not your mistress.’

‘Do you want to be the empress?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t meet the standard of poisoning concubines for breakfast.’

‘You’re smart enough not to be poisoned.’

‘Besides,’ there is a slight pause and Yuzuru finally opens his eyes, the colored world greeting him in its full splendor, ‘I can’t have children.’

Javier places his palm on top of the younger man’s hand. It’s a caring, reassuring touch, calm, not hushed, just their hands in perfect union. ‘I would be alarmed if you could.’ The emperor gently turns Yuzuru around, careful so he won’t crush the wounds on his back and without increasing the pressure on the wrist. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ He lifts his consort’s chin and their lips meet.

It is uncomfortable, Yuzuru thinks, the virtue and naivete in that kiss. He is falling again on the abyss and he will crash. Javier detaches himself from the unresponsive lips.

‘Don’t you want me?’

He wants. He wants the proximity of their bodies, the gnawing tension on his gut and the fingers in him again. He wants Javier, the lemon and musk of his sweat and to be thrown into the cage of his arms. He pulls the emperor down, clashing their lips in painful fury. He wants the control but also be released from it, their tongues in a messy, wet dance. He is falling again, this time on the precipice of his own lust but there is a hand that catches him before he hits the ground.

Yuzuru feels empty when their mouths separate, the two of them short of breath and equally flushed. He wants another one, one more kiss, shivering at the fear of the intensity welling up in him. He reaches for it but Javier stops him, painting his lips with the remnants of saliva.

‘You’re beautiful.’

Would this be his honesty or his loyalty?

‘What is my punishment?’

The emperor laughs. ‘Wasn’t the beating enough?’

‘That was the empress’.’ He swallows hard. ‘What is _your_ punishment?’

‘You’re too smart Yuzuru.’ Javier notices how both of them are reflected on the beads in his consort’s bracelet. ‘I could do so much to you, my Yuzu, that you would finally start obeying me. But it would all be an act, because–‘

‘Because,’ Yuzuru raises to his elbows and susurrates in Javier’s ears, ‘I would continue to be insolent and make you crazy without knowing what I would be doing, here, in this bed, and with whom.’

‘Am I not your favorite emperor?’

He nods. There is no hesitation but he wonders what if that is the sincerest truth.

‘You could have anything you want Yuzuru.’

‘Anything?’

‘Anything.’

‘Can you, Javier, have everything you want?’

The emperor presses him down again on the pillow in another enamored kiss, not as slow as before. ‘I have you.’

‘You have me.’ Yuzuru stares at the almond eyes and he runs a hand on the hazelnut curls. _Will you set me free?_

‘But you can’t have your will today since you’re hurt.’

 _Will you?_ ‘Is this my punishment?’

‘No. This is,’ Javier bends down and stops mere inches away from the swollen lips, ‘this is what I want.’ He blows a puff of air weakly over Yuzuru’s eyes, forcing the younger man to close them and he licks the eyelids. ‘I’m not cruel Yuzuru but I want to touch you so much.’

‘Touch me.’ He shivers when a tongue lavishes his ear, every line and crook. It’s like being hit with thunder, goosebumps on his skin and the tickling of pleasure all over him.

Javier ignores his plea and keeps whispering in his low timbre, one that made Yuzuru’s face light in a lustrous shade of pink. ‘I want to kiss you Yuzuru, all of you, your lips until they can only remember my taste. I want your eyes only for me and I will kill anyone you dare to give the same needy attention.’

‘I don’t.’ He smirks at his own lie.

‘You do. You _know_ you do.’ Yuzuru nods. ‘I want your hair, your ears, every mole, here on your neck, I will bite and eat them, I will suck on your Adam’s apple until you can’t breathe so I can hear you cough on the same voice when you are filled with me.’

‘Touch me.’

Javier still only looks at his consort, relishing at the small twitches on his chest and the trembling of his legs between his own. He too was fully hard by now, Yuzuru’s reaction to his words alone an erotic sight that he loved to have. ‘I want to tickle the crook of your neck with your own hair while I pinch your nipples until they become as red as your face now. You’re so sensitive Yuzuru, just one lick and you would beg me to nip even stronger. You like the pain, don’t know?’

Yuzuru doesn’t dare to speak, afraid that words will fail him and only incoherent sounds will splurge from his mouth. He lowers his hands to his torso, a taunting rub on the nipples, the diaphragm, his abdomen.

‘Who said you could touch yourself?’

He stops immediately and brings both arms above his head, wrists joined together, a daring glare under his lashes.

‘I love when you look at me like that Yuzuru. A wild cat. Do you want to scratch me with your claws so that I can tie you?’ But you can’t be obedient I know, you would open your legs like you’re doing now I will hold you down,’ Javier runs his fingertips through the sternum and presses Yuzuru’s navel, keeping him down to the mattress, ‘because you would be impatient for more, always more.’

‘I wouldn’t.’

‘You already are. Impatient to run away from this palace, aren’t you? I will worship your feet Yuzuru, I will suck each toe and your ankles so that each time you try to escape, you will know that you are walking on me. I want you to run Yuzuru, run away, so I can hunt you and drag you to my bed for punishment.’

Yuzuru turns his head to the side and he laughs loudly, his voice echoing in the quarters.

‘What is it so funny?’ He grabs the younger man by the chin, their gazes fixed on each other irises.

‘I am a hunter from the tribe of the East.’

‘Yes, the tribe that we never conquered. The home of the children of the night.’

‘Are you afraid, my emperor?’

‘You’re the perfect prey, Yuzuru.’

‘What if I tell you I willingly let myself be caught by you?’

Javier crawls downwards stopping at the younger man’s groin. ‘That’s why I will reward you.’ He sucks the leaking tip of Yuzuru’s hardened manhood, drinking of his essence, and gives a final lick to the whole length before stopping to imprint in his memory the way his consort arches his back for more contact, the dilated pupils, the sweat on his forehead and the open mouth gasping for air.

‘ _Please_.’

‘ _No_.’ He lowers his own hips, his clothed but protruding cock rubbing against Yuzuru’s. They both moan, unrestrained and yearning for each other. ‘I want this too Yuzuru. I want to feel you inside my mouth, you growing on my tongue and pushing further so I would eat you whole. Do you want to see tears as your balls hit my chin and you thrust into your emperor?’

‘Yes.’

‘What would you give me then Yuzuru?’

‘I–‘ His chest rises and falls at a fast rhythm, matched with the quickening hunger running in his blood and directed at his erection by the aphrodisiac low slurs from Javier. He intertwines his legs behind the emperor’s back and propels himself up, bold and precipitating the promised embrace.

‘No, no, no, Yuzuru,’ he meets each fleeting friction with his own rhythm, disciplined at first but soon slipping through the urge to chase their climax, ‘this is not fair.’

‘You don’t want fairness.’

‘I don’t.’ Javier places each hand on Yuzuru’s inner thighs, opening him wide. It’s truly alluring the rosy ring of muscles of his entrance. ‘I want to be inside you, Yuzuru, to bury myself slowly so I don’t break you. You are so tight Yuzuru, so painfully tight that when you swallow me whole, I will never leave your fever. I will melt into you, so deep, that you will feel me in your whole body, and you will hate the emptiness when my seed leaks from your hole.’

‘Javi–,‘ He imagines fucking and being fucked by Javier, in his bed, in the emperor’s bed, in the night and the time lost until then. Even without the physical carnality, the younger man is filled to the core with the jolts of psychedelic pleasure.

He feels he is everything that moment. _Everything_.

Yuzuru comes with his own name on the tip of his tongue, his semen coating his navel and painting a streak on the longest strands of his hair. He almost can’t breathe, the intensity of the bliss on the throes of the apex shutting his airways.

‘Where is your loyalty, Yuzuru?’

The younger man dips his fingertips on his own warm essence, unabashed moans as his trembling hand travels upwards until he brings the white creaminess to his own lips. He points at his mouth for his answer and Javier kisses him with an imperative desperation and the thrill to not let it go, both of them sharing the slight bitter saltiness and vanilla.

The emperor removes the beads from Yuzuru’s wrist, the symphony of pearls and black glass spheres ringing in his ears. He slides the bracelet on the dark-haired boy’s manhood, still wet and twitching. It fits perfectly, the light on the night, the hard on the soft, the magical on the real realm.

‘What?’ It hurts Yuzuru the constraint on his lingering sensitivity.

‘Dance for me tomorrow.’ Javier brushes away the locks plastered on the younger man’s forehead. ‘Dance wearing only _that_.’ He presses the cold crystals against the flushed flesh. ‘This is your punishment, _my concubine_.’

 

 

_Where is my loyalty, he asked, tell me how I should answer._

_Could he have it, tell me, when he finally catches me?_

_I am everything, just as you taught me._

_Can he?_

_Please._

Yuzuru steps on top of the banquet table, bare feet and his hair loose and over his shoulders in its own liberty. Every gaze in the room is fixed on his svelte silhouette delineated by the beige tunic, the sleeves so long they almost sweep over each silver cup. The melody is simple but his steps are his own drums and each tiny jump on his toes barely shake the tableware. It is uncanny how similar he looks to a celestial maiden, ephemeral and almost levitating, and yet his eyes are feral and possessed by the madness to reach beyond the infinity.

He is not perfect but no one seems to envisage so, except for Javier, his fingers tapping on the arms of his throne, each time Yuzuru loses a little of his twirling balance. He knows it’s the beads shifting around the base to the tip and his consort’s feline smirk tempts him in his sheer indulgence. He is touching Yuzuru and Yuzuru too can feel the contact even with the distance between their bodies. A moan escapes his lips when the dance finishes, the bird retrieving to its cage again.

Patrick too knows how Yuzuru is tied by the reins of the carnal lies. He grips the leather sheath of his sword too tightly that he almost feels the blade on his palm.

The room falls silent when the younger man bows. On his back, his wounds re-open and the dress soaks in blood, in the pattern of a pair of wings.

‘A monster.’

‘Dark sorcery.’

‘It’s impossible.’

‘The East will not forgive us.’

‘Kill her.’

‘No. They will curse us.’

‘Give her to Patrick.’

‘Yes, to Patrick.’

‘He is the general of the East, he will be able to tame her.’

‘Give her away.’

‘Patrick is the best choice.’

‘Silence!’ The emperor’s voice echoes through the hall as every subject drop to their knees, begging for forgiveness. Javier walks to Yuzuru, who refuses to kneel, and he grabs him by the chin. It is a soft caress but the younger man hisses as the finger presses on his lower lip, almost coming from the mere contact.

‘You are beautiful.’ Javier secures a lock of the dark hair with a scarlet clasp in the shape of a dragonfly.

There are more whispers in the air and the empress holds her fan with such force that its bamboo guards breaks, ripping apart the rice paper leaves.

‘Is this my freedom, my emperor?’ Yuzuru kisses the palm of his hand.

‘This is your choice, Yuzuru.’ He leans forward, the words only for the two of them. ‘Will you give me your loyalty?’

_Where is my loyalty, he asked, tell me how I should answer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few pointers to make the plot more understandable:
> 
> *Corporeal punishment was rather common in imperial days. To be whipped or beaten is actually a light punishment. There are stories of concubines having their fingers stretched to the point of breaking their bones for defying and being disrespectful of their empress.   
> *The empress basically rules the internal affairs of a palace, including the consorts and concubines. The emperor/king was the highest figure in the empire, yes, but politics and war preparations took most their time.   
> *I'm no expert in jewelry as well but women of the palace wore different jewelries according to their rank and marital status, Every thing in single numbers would also indicate their availability for courtship.   
> *Talons are protections women of the court wore on their fingers, some of these were really pointy and long like claws, to protect their nails. Soft hands and properly manicured nails were a sign of high status (i.e. no need to work on the fields or doing 'house chores').   
> *Since this has imperial times as inspiration, yellow was considered to be the color of royalty but scarlet but given to the highest concubines. Javi giving that pin to Yuzu is basically telling the world he is choosing Yuzu as his main consort or so.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few pointers in case they were not clear:  
> *Long hair was considered to be a major attribute for a woman and cutting one's hair was quite the offense.  
> *Raising any kind of weapon or putting the emperor in any kind of life-threatening situation was a one-way ticket to a death sentence.  
> *Although an emperor had a harem, the wives had a strict hierarchy, with the royal empress being the most powerful, followed by a series of concubines/consorts of different rankings. Actually, concubines and consorts denote different ranks but just pretend that I didn't know about this.


End file.
